“You’re wrong. You’re jumping to conclusions. You have no idea what you saw when you were...” he laughed, long and hard; Drew could just see him sneering into the cameras, “when you were scurrying around a flight hanger with too much weed in your system.”
Drew thumped his hand into the dirt. He knew it had been a mistake to give that guard a toke. “I know what I saw.”
Slade ignored him. “We’re going to be as open as we can on this. We’ve been holding back a lot of information from the public for good reason. Now, we can’t. So, we’ll be transparent to—”
“You’re planning a mass evacuation…I don’t know who’s going or when, but you have enough supplies prepped to take a few thousand people off-world…”
Slade laughed. “That’s nonsense.” He cleared his throat. “Look, the launch is happening, that much is true. We are investigating structures found on Callisto. There are structures there and we don’t know how they got there. The manned mission may take five years, but we’re well prepared. This will be the first of its kind. When we get there, we’ll conduct archaeological research. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“Will you be airing the launch?” the anchor inquired. “Will you air everything you discover?”
“We weren’t going to air anything, but now we will. The United States of America will be the first on that moon.” Drew imagined Slade looking into the camera, like a polished politician. “I want to apologize to the American people. No, to the world. I want to apologize that the administration I head, the GSA, held back vital information from the public. We did so, as I said, for good reason, though never to harm or keep you out of the loop. Our intent was to make this mission run as smoothly as possible. We didn’t want any hiccups and we didn’t want any delays.”
Drew’s mouth dropped. So phony, so premeditated. “Who’s leading this mission?”
“I’ll pilot the first ship of its kind, First Class SS-1. We won’t give its location out. We don’t want any terrorism or espionage. Once we leave Earth’s upper atmosphere, we’ll dock with the remainder of the ship. We’re calling it...Starship Atlantis.”
“You created a starship in a month?” To Drew, that was odd. It would have already been created before they had even found the structures on Callisto. How many of these highly technological ships do they have?
“We found these structures long ago and a starship has been in production for almost as long.”
Drew could tell Slade lied. The dates TECS IV satellite took the images and sent them to GSA was in May of this year, not years ago. But before Drew could ask the myriad of questions forming in his mind, his phone died. He had enough power, but he’d lost the signal. Or, more likely, Slade’s people had arranged to have him cut off. Easy enough to do.
He slammed his hand into the back of his head. He did his best not to throw his cheap-ass burner phone on the ground and watch it splinter into a dozen pieces. He’d had a terrible interview. Slade had a great one. A disaster. The tides had turned. Drew was no longer in the limelight. Instead, it was Slade.
There had to be more to it. The man hadn’t assembled a potential army of spaceships—at least that’s what Drew was piecing together—to take a couple of archeologists into space. He needed an in. He needed data. He needed to be the investigative reporter he’d always wanted to be.
He reached into his pocket and jingled his change. First, though, he needed a doobie. It was Portland. All he needed to do was throw a rock. He didn’t even need to hit a dealer. Heck, the guy in the suit, strolling toward the MAXX, would probably sell him a blunt for a couple of bucks.
Soon as he’d smoothed his feathers, he planned to get out there and find out what Slade was up to.
38
June 8th ~ Oospore Class-9 Dropship, Quadrant E ~ Earth Entry
Special Agent Nick Cole watched Earth on his view screen. The planet drew closer. In less than a minute, he’d be plummeting through Earth’s atmosphere in his dropship, a Secret Space Program Oospore Class 9. He called his dropship, Berry; after Chuck Berry, who knew how to rock his guitar and have a damned good time.
He waived his finger over a holographic button on his control panel. He patched to the Star Carrier, Star Warden. “This is SA Nick Cole, Dropship Berry. Target Grenada, Kaden Jaxx. I’m descending in forty-eight seconds. I’ll retrieve target soon and bend the throttle to our new way-point in J-quadrant. Clear.”
No reply.
He narrowed his eyes and waived his finger over the holographic button again. “Star Warden, this is SA Nick Cole, calling from Dropship Berry. Do you read?”
Nothing.
Was the comm line down?
“This is SA Nick Cole, call-sign Dropship Berry, requesting confirmation of positive Comm Line connection. Clear.”
A crackle. “SSP Oospore Berry, this is Star Warden, we read you.”
“Thank you, Star Warden. Was the comm line down? Clear.”
A long pause. “Patching Admiral Gentry Race through.”
Cole felt his back straighten, his features fall into standard “admiral on deck” formation. It wasn’t just a show. He liked the admiral. He gave him plenty of lee-way, which Cole took as a sign of respect.
“Cole?” the Admiral sounded upbeat, jovial even.
“Admiral.”
“We have new orders for you. You’re to leave Jaxx. For now. He’ll be flagged as target number two. Target number one will be to extract a Drew Avera. He has no training, no military background, and no backbone. Should be a piece of piss.” The Admiral had to be in his own quarters, or he’d never have spoken so loosely.
“Requesting permission to speak freely,” said Cole
“Permission granted.”
“I want that maggot Jaxx squirming on my line, sir.”
“I know, Cole. We all do. And he’ll get what’s coming to him. But I’ve just had a very illuminating conversation with Colonel Slade.”
“Slade, sir?
“Indeed.”
Cole nodded. Things were getting interesting. Slade was back in the mix.
“Seems his mission to Callisto intersects with our own interests.”
Cole waited. The admiral didn’t elaborate.
“This Drew fellow is something of a fly in the ointment. He got close to the plans, but has the wrong end of the stick, which is how we’d like it to stay. You need to extract him, however you may.”
“Extract, sir?”
“Correct, Cole. He’s a threat to our future.”
“Admiral, I’ll wrap up the assignment and deliver the target to you. Clear.”
“Good man, Cole.”
Cole could hear the whiskey decanter hit the side of the admiral’s glass as he signed off. Would have been nice, to have a whiskey in space. But taking care of what needed taking care of suited him better. If Drew Avera was a threat, he’d remove him. With prejudice. Prejudice, speed, efficiency, and relish.
He sat in a strong posture, exuding calm and focus. In less than twenty seconds, he’d descend to a planet he hadn’t been on in years. It was nice to be home, even for a short stint.
He waited for Star Warden to relay Avera’s last known fingerprints. Sure enough, the location came through. Portland, Oregon. Home to the biggest band of bleeding-heart hippies on the planet. He didn’t even need to be discreet. Half the population of Oregon would be stoned and awed, the other half would simply accept it as a cosmic event. Karma come home to roost, or some other nonsense.
He’d approach quietly, landing by the waterfront, find his way to Avera, and then end his time on the planet.
Ten seconds until entry. He’d go for a brief grab, twist, and release. Hopefully not too many people would try to interfere. Right now, he didn’t care. He cared more about the new alliance Gentry formed with Slade. That was one shit show he did not want to miss.
39
June 8th ~ Underfoot Black, Grenada
Though he cruised through space at sub-light speed 2.5, roughly 17,000 m
iles per hour, somewhere far, far away, Jaxx could hear Donny’s tinny voice, urging him to remain under, to search for the power source, to unlock the secret codes and give them the key. He had no clue what the man was on about.
“Remember what I always say,” Rivkah whispered over his comm. “Butts in buckets, bullets in battle, then back to base.”
Jaxx grinned. If anything could make him go to war, it was her.
“Squad leaders, listen up,” Fox’s voice oozed over Jaxx’s cockpit comm line.
All squadrons had been deployed and were eleven miles from Star Cruiser Liberty. A blue and green planet, looking much like Earth, came into view.
According to the intel the screen at the bottom of his helmet was feeding him, it was Taiyo.
“Viper Squadron, enter Taiyo twelve degrees north, thirty-two degrees east. Boom Squadron, thirteen degrees north, thirty-three degrees east. Hell squadron, eleven degrees north, thirty-one degrees east. We’ll hammer all angles of their main base. They do not know we are showing up. They do not know if we mean harm. If you receive communication from them, do not answer.”
Over his right wing, Jaxx saw hundreds of fighters barreling toward Taiyo. Jaxx was at the outer rim of the starfighters, Fox and Rivkah directly in front of him. He swallowed hard, doing his best not to piss his pants.
His personal comm channel blared back to life. “Rivkah, Jaxx, this is Captain Fox. We’re sweeping in at coordinates two degrees north, two degrees east, just above the equatorial region. We are on a reconnaissance mission of sorts. We’re tasked to punch in and punch out of a main city. We’ll do some damage, but keep it light. We want to put the frighteners on them, not flatten them. When they move out, we move in. They are extracting resources at that location. Resources that we could use. Understood?”
“Affirmative, sir,” Jaxx had a bad, bad feeling.
“That’s not the assignment we were given,” came Rivkah. “What happened to being the last strafe run at the base we’re targeting?”
“Things changed. Get prepared, because we enter Taiyo’s atmosphere in forty-one seconds. If things get bad down there, don’t punch out. No telling what they’ll do to you once you step on their soil. Better to die than be a slave.”
Right on cue, Jaxx’s cockpit beeped with hundreds of enemy craft flying through Taiyo’s exosphere and heading their way. Round one underway.
“Enemy craft, twelve o’clock,” yelled a pilot.
“We see them, ready to engage. Fire whenever the hell you want to,” said Fox.
The Air Wings let loose and plasma bolts dotted the view along with Space to Space Short Range Missiles—SSRM-23 Slingers—with blue flames streaming out the missiles’ backs, propelling them at upwards of twenty thousand miles per hour.
Jaxx, on the other hand, kept his finger off the trigger. He figured he’d only fire if fired upon.
The enemy bandits pulled evasion maneuvers with expert coordination and skill, evading them.
“Holy shit, did you see that?” screamed a pilot.
The enemy fighters zipped on by, spinning on their sides, passing through narrow gaps between each Air Wing. The enemy still hadn’t fired a single shot.
“Viper Squad, pull around and engage. The rest, continue to coordinates,” ordered Fox. “Looks like they like to fight in tight corners, even out in space. Spread out. Don’t give them an advantage.”
Jaxx’s personal comm line crackled on. It was Fox. “Veer off. We’re entering the atmosphere and at the specified coordinates. Get ready. Shit’s about to get real.”
Jaxx pressed adjusted his craft to forty-five degrees for atmosphere entry, then followed Rivkah and Fox into Taiyo’s upper atmosphere.
Jaxx’s craft shook. Gravity suckered him onto his seat, like a limpet. His craft rocked and vibrated, but he was in control. “Butts in buckets,” as Rivkah would say. The entry’s friction illuminated the nose of his craft in yellows and reds, like a fireball doing its best to lick him into oblivion. He squeezed his control stick to keep his craft steady. A moment later the fire died down, then faded to nothing. He was in Taiyo’s lower atmosphere. He leveled out into a glide.
He glanced over his wing again, seeing Rivkah several starfighter lengths away, though close enough for him to see her in her cockpit.
She gave him a thumbs up.
Fox was on the other side of her. He didn’t acknowledge either of them.
“Descend quickly,” ordered Fox.
“Aye, Captain,” Rivkah replied.
Jaxx pushed his control stick forward, zooming toward the earth below. When the altimeter met one thousand feet, Fox and Rivkah started to level out.
Jaxx did the same. His mouth fell open.
In the distance was a vast city over a lake. The lake was clear, and so translucent, so unsullied it appeared that it had inner glow, all azure hues and Mediterranean blues. Easily midday, the sun shone down on the city, which sparkled like a glittering work of art; unlike anything he’d ever seen. The outer rim had small domes which, if he was estimating their distance accurately, were probably equivalent to the size of three or four-story buildings. Attached to each dome was a fully-covered walkway or roadway that attached to larger domes toward the city center. The closer to the center, the bigger the domes. The largest dome directly in the middle.
Crafts flew above the city, some entering through openings in the domes, others exiting. They didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Neither did they seem alarmed that Jaxx, Rivkah, and Fox approached like hellfire in their SF-13 Air Wings.
To the west of the majestic city, rivers flowed into a massive lake. Green valleys below, lined with hills covered with unfamiliar trees, some with purple elephant-ear fronds reaching into the sky; others made up of turquoise feathers that fluttered and hummed as Jaxx zipped by. On the plain, lion-like horses galloped alongside gargantuan land-fish. Creatures worked the fields, and watched the starfighters pass overhead. It was peaceful, magical. Jaxx jaw hit his chin.
He let his eyes roam the lush and verdant land, taking in these new and unusual sights. A magnificent mountain range towered behind the already towering city, and that’s where Jaxx first saw them. A dozen enemy starfighters flying over the lip of the range and headed his way.
“Incoming,” warned Rivkah.
“They’re coming in hot. Ready your weapons,” ordered Fox.
Jaxx flicked off the safety fastened to his control stick, exposing the trigger. Beauty turned on its head and became the devil. Gobs of moisture ran down his sides. He wasn’t cut out for this, no matter what Rivkah said.
“The Taiyonians are here to party,” Fox howled. “Let’s give them a show.”
Fox let loose a few Air to Air Intermediate Missiles, AAIM-5 Darts. He followed with a volley of cannon fire.
The Taiyonians fired back, hitting the missiles and blowing them apart, then twisted away from the cannon blasts like dancers in ballet practice.
“How did they do that?” said Rivkah.
“Stay focused,” Fox demanded.
The Taiyonians split off. Some right, some left.
“Target locked. Firing.” Fox spat two Darts directly at the city, then pulled up.
Rivkah followed suit.
Jaxx didn’t.
“Jaxx, fire you son of a bitch! Fire!” yelled Fox.
Jaxx kept his finger off the trigger and pulled up. Explosions filled the city, domes arched to the side, tumbled over, and crumbled into the gloom of rising smoke.
This isn’t right.
Jaxx banked left, following Rivkah, then heard a beep, then several more. A bandit had Jaxx in weapons lock.
And then it happened, as unexpected as it was welcome. A pull came over his body, and then a pop as Jaxx felt his consciousness expand. His vision was no longer inside the cockpit, his arms no longer by his side. His confidence soared and his fear vanished. It took his breath away, but not for long.
Beeps filled his cockpit, accompanied by several bursts of weapons’ fire be
hind him. He told his body and his craft made a sharp descent. The shots missed but the bandit followed after him.
Jaxx lifted his craft and leveled out for a moment, then pulled a short loop, and skimmed a bogey’s topside. A darkened window covered the cockpit. He still didn’t know what the Taiyonians looked like.
He pulled in behind the enemy. Jaxx intuited that the bogey would pull a hard wingover left, attempting a small turn radius into a quarter loop allowing the enemy to go into an eventual vertical climb. He didn’t know how he knew this, but he did.
Jaxx adjusted his crosshairs just left of the bandit. He pulled the trigger, letting out plasma blasts. In the same instant Jaxx touched his trigger, the bandit pulled left, just as Jaxx predicted.
A dozen hits, and the bogey erupted in smoke and fire.
Jaxx flew through the flames.
“I have two bandits on me, locked and loaded,” screamed Rivkah. “Need assistance, need assistance.”
Jaxx pulled around, several fighters on his tail.
Fox downed an enemy near the mountain range. He circled around and dove in for another pass at the city.
“I’m coming, Rivkah,” Jaxx responded, twisting and evading more weapons fire.
Within seconds, he spotted Rivkah, dancing her Air Wing in every direction possible, avoiding what looked like red-tracer rounds sliding past her wings.
Predicting the enemy’s flight movements, he zeroed in on an empty space in the sky, knowing this would be the trajectory of the bogey, and shot a AAIM-5 Dart. An moment later, the enemy entered the predicted space and blew into flames.
The bandits following Jaxx were nearing target lock. Any second now they’d pull their triggers, ending Jaxx, turning him into a blaze of splendor. Jaxx hoped he’d draw them in closer, precisely for his next maneuver.
He spun a one-hundred-eighty degree turn, slowing himself in the process. He lit the attackers up with countless plasma bolts, downing the lead starfighter and clipping the wing of the starfighter behind it. The lead ended like the rest, an explosion of hot colors, and the tail fighter twirled end over end, hitting the earth and toppling trees as it slid across the hillside. It left a scorched trail.
The Complete Atlantis Series, Books 1 - 5: Ascendant Saga Page 19